The Wall of Pain
by Crash.Fire
Summary: Reilly must climb a wall of sharp instruments to live, can he do it?
1. The Awakening

The ground he awoke on was moist, almost mud. He didn't want to open his eyes. His sleep had been unpleasant, but any sleep was good sleep now that he had gotten another promotion. He heard a dripping sound and the buzz of neon lights. This wasn't normal. If he was in his bed, the only noise he would hear was is son's humidifier in the next room. But there was no humidifier, only the drip and the buzz. He opened his eyes and peered around.

The room was nothing like his upper class apartment. It was dirty, wreaked of death and mold, narrow and brightly lit. Three of the four walls were barren of all but dirt and rust. The fourth wall was decorated with nails, knife blades, and other sharp instruments that started a few, maybe two yards up. On one nail about a foot off the ground, hung a digital tape recorder, which he took and pushed the black play button.

A rasp came on over the speaker. "Hello Reilly. Along your way to the top, you have cut people out of your life. Now it's your turn. In front of you is a wall of blades. You must climb this wall to the top where there is a door. This door is your only escape." Reilly looked up and saw an opening about ten yards up. "You must make it out in ten minutes or the door will slam shut, leaving you in this chamber to suffocate. Let the game begin."

He knew screaming for help would be pointless, so he didn't bother. He stepped on the nail the tape recorder had been on and began to push himself up when the nail gave way and he fell back against the opposite wall. He heard a ticking noise. _A timer._ He reached in the air and grabbed a nail pointing upward and a clever blade and began to pull himself up. The pain was worse than he thought it would be as the blade cut into his hands, but he kept going. Although he spent mostly all his time in the office, he made an effort to go to the gym once a week so it wasn't hard to pull himself up, minus the pain. Then it occurred to him, if he had the time to go to the gym to keep his still remaining high school figure, couldn't he have made an effort to eat a couple nights with his family.

He shook the thought out his head and continued to pull himself up. This was no time for self-hatred. He had to stay focused.

He was nearly halfway up by this time and still plunged forward, reaching for the blades of steak knives and chains from chainsaws and crowbars. His hands had become slippery with blood and his bare feet had been cut to the bone. As he reached for a chain wrapped in barbwire, he slipped. He fell to the wet ground and didn't move. Had he broken anything? He had not, but he felt like he had sprung his ankle. He sat up and eyed the wall. How was he going to do this.


	2. A Worried Wife

His eyes misted with tears from the pain he was now realizing. He had to get moving or it would only become worse. He stood and the dirt beneath his feet stung as it crawled into the wounds. He again became climbing and soon was at the spot he had fallen from.

"Reilly, baby, where are you?" A frantic mother ran threw the large dimly light apartment. She had not been alarmed when she awoke at three in the morning and her husband was not beside her. She heard a loud thud outside the apartment door and some shuffling. When she opened it she found her husband's briefcase, cell phone, watch, and key ring outside the door. She had run the halls calling for him and when he did not answer she had returned to the apartment to see if he had come back inside.

She held the phone in her hands and began to dial. Nine, one, she stopped. Why should she call the police? He had never been there for her, why should she be there for him? She could make enough money if he was found dead that she would never have to work again.

'What am I thinking?' She thought dialing the final one. The phone rang and a man picked up the phone.

"I think my husband has been kidnapped."


	3. The Ends

Happy Ending

He continued until he was at the last row of sharp instruments. His feet and hands had gone numb from blood loss. He was exhausted and woozy. "Come on, reach up," he told himself. He, according to his counting, had fifteen seconds left to escape. He quickly pulled himself up and threw the door just as it slammed shut. A shrill of excitement full of pain escaped from his lungs. He had made it.

A sadistic, maniacal laughter came from behind him in the dark room. "Congratulations Reilly," it was the same voice on the tape recorder. "Some people are so ungrateful to live, but not you, not anymore." The lights came on in a dim blast and brightened. In front of him was a puppet on a tricycle. It laughed again and shut off as a police officer pulled the plug on the extension cord.

Sad Ending

He continued until he was at the last row of sharp instruments. His feet and hands had gone numb from blood loss. He was exhausted and woozy. "Come on, reach up," he told himself. He did and his feet slipped out from under him. He tumbled down the blades, getting cut as he went down until a large nail stabbed under his ribs. He heard the door slam shut. The lights went out. He closed his eyes.

**Game Over**


End file.
